A Wrinkle in Time
by hoppingpen
Summary: A look at House and Rachel's relationship over the years in a series of oneshots. Contains mild language, rated T just to be safe. Please R&R. Implied House/Cuddy, but not much. Borrowed title
1. A Close Call

A series of oneshots about House and Rachel over the years.

House walked up to Cuddy's office door and peered in the window. She had her back turned to the door, talking on the phone, probably with some irate donor, he thought. He was just about to leave when he saw a stroller sitting up against the door. Silently, he opened Cuddy's office door without a single creak and, with one hand, rolled the stroller and its sleeping baggage out.

House! Nurse Brenda yelled from the nurse's station when she saw him unsteadily guiding the stroller out the hospital's front doors. But it was too late- he was out the door. Nurse Brenda sighed, resolving to tell Cuddy her two children had officially escaped.

House sat with a thump on the picnic bench. It had taken him longer to get over here than he originally planned, having to guide the stroller awkwardly while simultaneously leaning on the cane. Rachel still hadn't woken up; despite the jumbling she had assuredly gotten on the sidewalks coming over to the lakeside park.

House first looked to see if anyone was watching them, then pulled the stroller to face him. Rachel looked very peaceful. Good, he thought. If she'd been crying he wouldn't have known what to do. Looking very pleased with himself at his little escapade, House smiled and popped a Vicodin and lay back on the table. It wasn't five minutes before he'd dozed off, dreaming of how freaked Cuddy would be when she realized she had misplaced her child.

He awoke suddenly when a nearby breeze blew a leaf onto his face. Startled, he rose up from his reclined position only to find something missing. He rubbed his face sleepily and took a moment to think. There was definitely something missing. What was it? He then remembered with a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. The baby. What was it's name? Cuddy's kid. He had kidnapped it and now it had been kidnapped for real.

He stood up with a bolt and the realization of what had happened as he surveyed his surroundings hit him like a punch in the stomach. Cuddy was going to be hysterical. He had to find that baby.

He sat down to think. Police? Not yet. He had to form a solo search party. What color was the stroller? Was the kid big enough to walk? He didn't think so. And the stroller was pink. Of course. As he had his head in his hands House spotted a pink form in middle of the parking lot. It was too far away to tell, but it looked like a stroller. And there was a figure reaching into the trunk. True kidnappers, House thought, as he immediately flung his cane to the side and ran- albeit slowly- toward the illusive stroller.

By the time he reached the dark blue mini van the doors were closed and they had put the car in reverse. Stop! He yelled, but to no avail. With a thud, he threw himself onto the hood of the car. The driver, a middle-aged woman, shrieked.

"What the hell?" the woman yelled as she put the car in park and got out.

"Hand over that kid…" House managed to croak out from his awkward position on the hood of the car.

"I most certainly will not," the lady said. "And you would do well to get OFF my car."

"That kid in there is not yours, and I'm not moving until I get it back."

"That child was stolen by a homeless man and I found her in the park, I'm giving her to police," the woman said uneasily. House thought he saw the first signs of recognition on her face as he slowly got off the hood of the van.

"You're… the…"

"I am NOT a homeless person. I am an esteemed doctor out having a perfectly good time with my child, when some ARROGANT ASSHOLE gets the nerve to steal her..."

"I thought…I thought…" the woman stammered.

"What you thought is irrelevant. What sort of idiot steals a child?" House replied. He would have argued more, but his thigh gave him about two minutes before he would collapse in a heap on the ground.

"Just give her back, and try to remember this event when you next think about taking someone's child. I should have you reported," House said disgustedly, leaning on the hood of the car.

The woman tearily opened the side door and retrieved a slumbering baby, Rachel, House finally remembered her name. Wobbly, House limped over to grab Rachel out of the outstretched arms of the woman. As he walked away, his unsteady gait woke the baby, and she let out a soft cry.

"Sir?" the woman asked.

"What?" House whirled around and stared at the lady he'd hoped would be gone by now.

"It's just…I'm sorry. But. Do you need some help? If you've been drinking you really shouldn't be holding that baby. You might drop her."

House was beginning to wish he had never attempted this godforsaken adventure. What he should have done was give this lady a verbal bashing she never would have forgotten. What he did was somewhat less dramatic.

He rolled his eyes. "Just give me back the goddamn stroller."

The woman did as she was told and retrieved the pink stroller from the trunk of the car. House sat Rachel down with a thump in the stroller. As soon as the lady had pulled away, he struggled to bend down and buckle the strap over her belly. She giggled softly as his hand softly stroked her stomach.

Leaning heavily on the stroller, House made his way back to the park bench. He was so focused on staying upright he didn't notice a certain hospital administrator glaring at him from the edge of the park.

Cuddy stared at the odd pair. When Nurse Brenda had told her where House and Rachel were headed off to, she hadn't been that worried. Maybe a little. OK, she was _really_ worried about Rachel. But Rachel seemed fine, Cuddy noticed, as they both grew nearer. It was House that looked worse for wear.

"House!" She yelled.

The look he gave her made her swallow all the insults he deserved and rush closer. His face was drawn and pale and as he neared the seat, he pushed the stroller at Cuddy.

"You know," Cuddy said, oblivious to what had happened, "the next time you want to take her for a walk you should _ask_ and we can go together so you can use your cane." She wanted to sound gentle, but it came out condescending, and she immediately regretted saying anything.

"Just take your spawn," House muttered.

As Cuddy left, stroller in hand, House ran his hand over his thigh and stared off into the distance, looking at the lake. True, it hadn't turned out as planned, but, he absentmindedly looked at his fingers, Rachel had giggled when he touched her stomach. It was one of the first times since Stacy he had touched someone he hadn't paid ahead of time. He smiled to himself and kept staring into the distance.


	2. Balloon Day

It was Rachel's fifth birthday. Cuddy had pulled out all the stops and hired a clown and caterers.

"You know, it seems like you're compensating for something," House commented.

"Shut up. I'm trying to have a good time- with or without you," Cuddy replied.

She walked away and House followed after her.

"You know, she'll be able to tell in a couple of years you aren't her biological mother," House continued. "No amount of clowns can distract her from that little fact."

Cuddy whirled around to meet him head on.

"You know what; you weren't invited to this party. If you're going to keep making comments like that, you can just leave." Cuddy was irate. "This is Rachel's first party. I want to make sure she remembers it for the _right_ reasons. That doesn't necessarily include you."

House stopped.

"Fine," he said. "I'll go, and I'll take the balloon man with me."

Wilson was over at the picnic table by the lake blowing up animal balloons to the delight of about ten kindergarteners. He looked like he was having a great time with his peers, House noted slyly. He looked ridiculous decked out in a balloon hat.

"C'mon, Wilson," House said with a grunt. "Let's get outta here."

"No way," Wilson protested. "We haven't even gotten to the cake part, much less the opening of the presents. No way Cuddy lets us leave now."

"She _wants_ me to leave, Jimmy. Said so herself. Let's get."

More squeals of delight erupted as Wilson finished off a dachshund-shaped blue balloon.

"I want to stay, though. Why are you leaving?"

"This is boring. Mindless brats endless running around. Reminds me of the clinic."

Wilson looked closer at House and could tell something more was bothering him. He figured he could drop House off at home and still make it back over to the party by the time presents were unwrapped.

"Fine, we'll go. But you have to wish Rachel a happy birthday before we go. Or at least say goodbye," Wilson said.

House wrinkled his nose in disgust, but ventured forth in search of the illusive five-year-old.

After searching the area around the picnic tables and the clown's tent, House was about ready to call it quits. He even searched under the caterer's tables to no avail. It was as he was standing up and going to tell Wilson the dirty deed was done, he spotted a familiar figure across the lake by some large rocks.

With a sigh and a glance backward to make sure no one was watching, House stepped off the pavilion onto the damp grass and away from the party, slowly and carefully making his way over to the rocks.

By the time he arrived next to Rachel, he was out of breath and needed to sit down.

"Hey," he grunted. "Move over."

Rachel complied without looking up at the towering figure to see who it was. She recognized his voice.

House gradually lowered himself down onto the rock beside her small, dainty figure, but as he crouched and leaned on his right leg, it gave out from underneath and he planted his full weight directly on Rachel.

"Mmpf!"

"God! Sorry!"

House scrambled up from her rock as if he had been burned. His face turned fire-red and he looked her over quickly for any outward signs of injuries.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

For the first time, Rachel looked straight into House's eyes and he could see tears streaming down her face.

"Where does it hurt?"

Rachel put her palm over her chest, up and to the right of her breastbone. For a split second House was worried he had broken one of her ribs in his fall, but then realized she meant otherwise.

"Why aren't you at your party?"

"Didn't feel like it," Rachel's words came out slowly.

"Well, are you going to tell me what's the matter or do we have to play 20 questions?" His usual snarkiness returned once he realized no physical harm had been done.

"Rita told me Mommy's not really my mommy and mommy doesn't have a husband so that means I don't have a daddy and that means we're not a real family. I don't deserve a birthday party."

House sat quietly.

"Well, with that sort of logic, I shouldn't have ever had any birthday parties."

Rachel looked up quizzically. House sighed and continued.

"I didn't have a real daddy, either. And you see how I turned out?" House didn't really expect an answer.

"Is that why you can't walk?"

House frowned.

"No, I can't because one day a shark bit me while I was swimming."

"Really?" Rachel reached her bare feet out of the lake water and nervously began edging up the large rock toward the grass.

House smiled and edged toward the grass himself. He was about to get up when a very small hand stuck itself in his face.

"Need some help?"


	3. The Princess and the Pea

"House."

He rolled his eyes and turned to face her as he got off the elevator.

"Yes, oh mistress?"

Now it was Cuddy's turn to roll her eyes. "Are you coming tonight?"

"Coming? To what, I wonder?" House pretended like he had forgotten Rachel's school play that night, but Cuddy saw right though it.

"I'll pick you up at 6, House, you'd better be ready."

"As if I have anything to say about it," House replied. "There'd better be good food."

Later that evening Cuddy pulled up beside the house in her silver Prius. Rachel was in the back, busily reading her costume for her debut.

Cuddy walked up to the door and knocked three times. Moments later, a suave-looking House decked out in a suit and tie opened the door. Cuddy was stunned.

"House? What?"

"Ahh. I see, my good looks are too good for words, I guess."

"Um. No. I mean, yes! Wow, you look great. I mean…" Cuddy stammered.

"Ha!" House gloated. He peered out at the car.

"Is the spawn all buckled up?"

"_Rachel_ is in the back, yes. And she's waiting on us."

"Oh, by all means let's not keep the princess waiting."

"House! Wow!" Rachel exclaimed as he climbed in the back seat next to her. Cuddy pulled up her front seat so he would have more leg room.

"And you, madam, look…well… like a princess."

Rachel, as well as her silver crown, gleamed.

Just then, as House turned his head to her, he noticed she looked a little pale.

"Nervous?" He asked.

"Nope." Rachel lied.

"Of course she's nervous," Cuddy said, still focused intently on driving. "It's her first play for god's sake, and she's got the lead role."

"Yeah, no pressure," House replied sarcastically.

They met Wilson, who had arrived early and saved seats, in the school gymnasium. They had front row seats, just to the right of the stage.

Moments later, the curtains pulled away to a very pale looking Rachel sitting on a pretty pink chair center stage.

House immediately started to worry. Cuddy didn't seem to notice, or maybe she blamed it on Rachel's nerves, but House knew better. The kid was usually too confident for her own good.

Rachel approached the microphone to say her lines on the edge of the stage, and House saw her knees start to shake. He thought about getting up to steady her, but thought how awkward and out-of-place that would look, and thought better of it.

But when Rachel's eyes rolled back into her head, House was there, right underneath her, before even Cuddy or Wilson realized what was happening.

She fainted right into his arms.

Her six-year-old weight was almost too much for House to bear with his bum leg, but he somehow managed to stay upright. Rachel's princess crown fell to the floor with a clang, and the silence echoing was unbearable for Cuddy.

"Rachel!" Cuddy yelled at exactly the same time Wilson yelled "House!"

"Pull the car around front," House said to Cuddy, "We've got to take her to Princeton-Plainsboro now."

Cuddy ran to do as she was told, and Wilson motioned to take Rachel as House slowly wobbled toward the front doors, the entire crowd watching. The stage was motionless.

House shook his head no at Wilson's protests. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner- she looked like she was going to pass out from the moment he got into the car. He had to take responsibility.

Minutes later, a nervous Cuddy paced the clinic halls as House gently tried to wake Rachel up inside room B. He prodded her with his finger, and her eyelids slowly started to flutter.

"I'm taking blood," he said, and pushed the needle into her vein.

She started suddenly, and let out a cry, but let House finish the job.

"That was good." House said. He knew he should have comforted her more, but it just wasn't second-nature to him.

"How is she?" Cuddy appeared at the door. "You know, I could have taken care of that myself."

"I don't know until the blood tests come back, obviously." House replied, without his signature sarcasm.

"C'mon, House. I know you have a theory. You always have a theory."

"No. Let's wait."

"You wanting to wait means it's serious."

"_Might_ be serious."

"There are no mights with you, House."

"I'm not doing this, Lisa."

The use of her first name made Cuddy's ears perk up. She grabbed his hand as he tried to speed away.

"Please. Tell me what's wrong."

But again, House shook his head.

"You should go in and look after her. I'll rush the tests."

"She has a low red and white count," House said as he entered the room.

"Rachel, mommy's going to talk outside, OK?" Cuddy asked.

"No," House said. "She deserves to hear this. It's her life, her sickness. She's got leukemia. Wilson's on his way in."

House paused. "I'll give you two some time."

"No, House. Stay," Cuddy said, tears now streaming down her face. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. She's also got tonsillitis, probably her immune system's too weak to tackle that on its own. She's going to need surgery."

Cuddy sat down on the seat next to the examination table where Rachel was perched and softly cried. House stared at her, then back up at Rachel.

"Do you understand?" House asked.

"I have cancer. Uncle Jimmy's coming to take care of me special," Rachel whispered.

"That's right," House shifted uneasily.

"And I'll be here, too."


	4. Fortune Teller

A young lady, maybe 25 or 30 years old, wandered the hallway of the hospital with the natural ease of someone who had been there before, or maybe had grown up there.

Only this time she was on the gerontology ward. The nurses nodded to her as she passed; she was a frequent visitor.

She rapped three times on door 214, paused, and then knocked twice again. It was their special signal, always had been since he would come visit her in the hospital when she had leukemia as a child, then again shortly after she started college.

She slowly pushed the door open to hear House's soft snores. She knew how he hated anyone seeing him sleeping, so she cleared her throat loudly. He still didn't wake.

She poked him playfully in the story, and he opened one eye to glare at her.

"Hmm. Looks like I have an intruder."

"Oh, by all means, sound the alarms. It'll give me a chance to practice my quick getaways."

House smiled at her retort. He raised the head of the bed.

"How are you?" She knew he hated that question.

"Still dying. How about you?"

"Still dying." Both of them smiled.

She looked at him, how much he had changed over the past couple of years. Ever since her mom had died of ovarian cancer at 55, his hair had grown grayer, his gait more unsteady, and his eyesight worse. She had watched him through the stages of grief, denial anger, all that, at her mother's bedside. He had taken it a lot harder than she had, although he had probably known her better. Her mother had always tried to be so close, and in doing so, had kept so far away. The only person she felt she could really talk to was always House, who was usually the person who wanted to talk to her the least.

She smirked at that thought.

"What are you so happy about?"

"I dunno, the possibility of eating dinner with you," Rachel said.

"Yeah, you're buying if you get the privilege of fine dining with me." House replied.

It was the same routine they had every time Rachel came to visit, which was pretty much everyday after work. They would next struggle with where to eat. He always wanted his signature cold reuben without pickles.

"I'll go get lunch," Rachel would say.

"I'm getting out of this goddamn bed," House would reply.

Rachel would sigh and wordlessly help him take off the covers and bring him his blazer he always insisted on wearing over the scrubs he insisted the nurses bring him. She would unhook the IV with practiced ease, and he would bring himself to a sitting position, reaching for his glasses.

"What's the mode of transportation today, sir?" Rachel would say, and House would motion toward what he wanted. The good thing about his age, Rachel noticed, was that nearly everyone used something to help them get around, and he didn't look so out of place.

As House unsteadily limped down the hallway with the aid of a walker, Rachel remembered the old cane she would run her hands over when she was little. She would think of nicknames for it- but he always called it little Greg in her presence. It hung on the wall next to his bed now, collecting dust ever since he fell and broke his hip about a year ago.

House and Rachel would find a table, Rachel volunteering to go get the chow, and sit and eat with the easy silence of two people who knew each other well.

After dinner, they would play poker, just the two of them. House usually won, and he always considered Rachel his protégé.

They would mosey back to his room and each take one fortune cookie out of the box House kept under his bed. It was another unusual tradition he started when Rachel was in the hospital her second time, on her third round of chemo, and everyone thought her last breath was one breath away.

_House knocked three times, paused, then twice more. It was their special signal._

_He opened the door slowly and limped inside._

_Rachel was asleep, and the breathing mask didn't do enough to mask her labored breathing._

_House gently poked her on the shoulder and Rachel woke._

"_Hi. I brought you something."_

_Rachel looked surprised as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes. She lowered the mask to talk, but House pushed it back up on her face._

"_No talking. I'll even unwrap it for you."_

_He greedily set into unwrapping the very present he had just wrapped moments before. She was sure he was hamming it up for her pleasure._

"_You bought me a box of fortune cookies?" her voice was muffled._

_House looked hurt. "But they're delicious!" he protested._

_Rachel smiled. "Gracias."_

"_Open it."_

_Rachel reached and grabbed two._

"_Now, now. Don't be so greedy. One per day. This has got to last a while, I don't get paid again until the end of the fiscal year." House said._

"_Yeah…because fortune cookies are SO expensive," Rachel smiled._

"_Well, are you going to read it?"_

_But Rachel's shaking hands couldn't open the plastic wrapper. House took it gently from her hands and cracked it open for her, but didn't take out the fortune._

"_Read it."_

"_It says…good things are on their way," Rachel read. She laughed. "I guess that means I'm going to heaven, after all."_

_House's face turned red. "Don't say that."_

"_What. Are you afraid of death?" Rachel pulled down the oxygen mask. "I know your view of the afterlife. I'm not afraid. I believe in heaven and hell and God and the Devil. And, I know you think that's dumb, illogical, whatever words you want to use. But it helps me sleep at night knowing tomorrow I'll be with Him."_

_House was silent. It was the first time she had seen him cry._

_Her monitor started beeping. Her O2 had gotten too low. She was feeling faint._

"_Rachel?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Shut up." He placed the mask back over her face._

_Rachel pulled it down again. "Open yours."_

_House crushed his cookie inside the wrapper, then slowly pulled the paper from the crumbled remains. He was silent. He handed the paper over to her and said aloud from memory, "Love defies death… stymies the best."_

She still remembered the look on his face after she read it aloud. It was an extremely sappy moment, but the situation was so intense. They were his last words to her before she slipped into unconsciousness. Mom had said he was next to her for two straight days, yelling at his latest ducklings for her vitals and demanding test results. He wouldn't give up, although she already had.


	5. White Wedding

White Wedding

"Which one looks better?"

Rachel tried on the blonde wig, and then threw it on the dresser.

"Try this one," Cuddy said as she handed her a brown one.

"Ooh. Nice. But too long."

Rachel reached down for another wig, orange this time, when an all-too-familiar figure burst through the door.

"How's bride number 2?" House asked.

"House!" Cuddy shrieked.

"What, mom? He's right. So what?" Rachel said.

House grinned. It had been three months since Rachel met Liz, and already they were getting married. Cuddy thought the decision was rash, but Rachel had a fiery streak in her, and insisted on having a white wedding ASAP.

"Are they playing 'Here Comes the Bride,' or 'Here Come the Brides?' Geez, I'm going to have to go out and see if the piano man knows that one," House said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. Rachel laughed and tried another wig.

Cuddy was unusually uptight today, House noticed. She'd had House check Rachel out twice and clear her for any activity today. She had relapsed right around the time she met Liz.

Just then, Wilson walked in the door, decked out in a tux.

Now it was House's turn to roll his eyes. Of course Wilson would get dressed up. House himself put on black slacks to match his blazer and wore a Beatles t-shirt underneath. Cuddy had almost killed him when he showed up, but it was too late to send him back.

"Rachel," Wilson started.

"Almost ready. There." Rachel went back to the long brown wig. "Ready. Finally."

Rachel wore a long white dress. She had no idea what Liz was wearing. Probably a suit and tie. She loved her in that suit and tie.

House disappeared out the back door as Rachel finished applying all the necessary articles for a wedding.

"We've got to go," Wilson urged. "The piano will start playing soon."

"Alright." Rachel smiled and took his hand.

The piano started playing before Rachel and Wilson came through the doors, but it wasn't Here Comes the Bride or even Here Come the Brides. It was Rustle of Spring by Joseph Cooper. It took Rachel back immediately to playing with House on the keyboards so long ago.

"Is this right?" Wilson asked.

"It's perfect."

And they walked out, hand in hand. Cuddy sat on the front row, weeping, and House sat at the piano, playing his favorite song.


End file.
